


You Make My Blood Sing

by zjass06



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alpha Will Solace, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Violence, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Mating Bond, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Nico di Angelo, Pack Dynamics, Protective Will Solace, Rating May Change, Scenting, Vampire Nico di Angelo, Werewolf Will Solace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjass06/pseuds/zjass06
Summary: Nico's life changes the moment he was turned into a vampire.Nico's eternity changes the moment he finds out that he has a werewolf for a mate.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 37
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

Nico is hungry.

 _Starving_ , actually; not in the right state of mind to even figure out exactly how long it had been since his last meal, only that it’s been _too_ long. So long that it feels as though his chest had been hollowed out with a butcher’s knife and there are ants crawling under his skin and swimming through his venomous veins.

If he weren’t so delirious, he’d be able to able to fully comprehend the dangers of being famished for so long; he’d be able to go about the streets in search for a oblivious, half-willing donor; accept the invitation back to their place before he feeds from their necks in a way mortals only read as a little frisky. Nico’s stealthy, so he always laps away the wound before anyone notices, and once full, he generously repays them with a sly grin, bedroom eyes and a couple hours of his time.

However now the urge to eat is animal, nothing but a sheer drive to consume. It’s a strange need, since it is not the basic human instinct to merely survive, but a physical, coiling wrench in his gut tugging his strings like a puppeteer.

It hasn’t been this bad since he was turned. Alone, waking up in an alleyway, trying to figure out why his skin crawls under the sunlight and why his teeth elongate into those of a predator.

 _There are no such things as vampires, sweetie_ a mother had once told her young daughter, who had caught a glimpse of his crimson eyes and the scarlet smear around his lips. Every now and then, Nico comes to think of that girl and how she’s doing, whether, several years later, she had brushed it off as childish imaginings or whether it stuck to her, if she blabbered and is now being treated for delusions like most are.

Nico, who’s emotional capacity is nothing but an empty vault, feels for those people. They’re the right ones, of course. However humankind is merely too blissfully ignorant, stubbornly set on the wonders of science, and brush aside any anomalies and unexplainable miracles as though they’re nothing.

In reality – the _actual_ reality – vampires do exist, alongside so many others. So many more species, that either remain hidden in the places that humans consider too extreme to live, or hide in plain sight (like Nico) who blend in as mortals and not mythics.

But right now, his disguise is at risk and if he ends up shifting in this diner under the eyes of several human witnesses, there would be no mistaking this as a simple trick of the light, and by the time it hits the news hunters would already have a stake buried in him.

It takes every inch of his being to get a grip on himself, and second by second it slips through his fingers. There’s no way he’d be able to seduce someone in this state, let alone do so without completely selling himself out, and though his thrall is always an option it’s a little too far of a stretch against his moral compass – the only one time that he did use it was when he lured a kidnapper away from a courtyard and drained him to his very last drop.

His senses are nulled, his limbs sluggish, and he thinks he may end up hibernating here for a day or ten, but then the door chimes and Nico’s renewed with an all new wave of energy when he picks up on that scent…

 _Wolf_.

It’s a fight or flight response increased by a tenfold, and whatever adrenaline equivalent chemical roars through his blackened capillaries rejuvenates his strength and coherency in a way that he would almost consider a blessing – even if it’s only temporary. His body seems to do this only in the times of immediate danger, as if it could pick up on his surroundings quicker than his mind can comprehend. It’s an involuntary reaction, of course, and although helpful it always leaves him severely drained whenever it seeps away.

The man that enters is undoubtedly a handsome being, but ever since he’s been forced into this world, looks have never been more deceiving – especially when he’s a walking example himself. Naturally tan skin, golden hair, well-built, but most significantly a wolf. Reckless creatures, that shift under the glare of a full moon into beasts fuelled with bloodlust. They won’t be so pretty then.

There’s apparently a history between werewolves and vampires. Not that Nico has the best of sources and knows many others like himself, but whenever in the presence of a wolf it’s different to other mythics. It sets his blood boiling, a singing hatred engraved into his very essence. It’s a long story from millennia ago, or so they say, but narrowed down, vampires and werewolves are nothing to each other if not enemies.

Nico sees it in the wolf’s eyes, vividly blue but narrowed dangerously. He’s just as aware of Nico as Nico is of him.

And then their gazes meet, charged and knowing, while everyone else in the diner remain naïve. It’s a good thing they’re here though, because if this wolf has a single braincell, he’d know not to risk anything in the presence of mortals.

Still, Nico’s eyes remain trained on him because werewolves are almost always driven on instinct and he could never trust one to remain tame. So when the wolf begins to approach him, he knows he’d assumed correctly.

As he slides into the booth opposite Nico, he refuses to let any alarm show on his face. The last thing he needs is to show his intimidation to a species that thrives on inferiors. However he doesn’t make any attempt to mask away his loathing, with a sharp glare that would make any lesser being flee in the opposite direction. Over a century’s practice would perfect that skill for him.

However the wolf doesn’t play the same game, for his eyes soften and his pupils dilate as though he weren’t looking at his blood enemy. Nico doesn’t back down though, since wolves are manipulative beasts, that have tendencies to play with their food. If anything, his futile attempt of trying to make Nico lower his guard does nothing but make it twice as strong.

“I found you,” the wolf says. “It’s you.”

Sirens ringing in his ears, Nico lifts his jaw ever so slightly in understanding. For a while, he’s had a suspicion someone’s been on his tail ever since he settled in this gods’ forsaken town. He’s well aware of territories between the mythics, unwritten boundaries that would only cause trouble to cross. However Nico’s sneaky, and his den is tucked in far from the suburbs and so long as he lies low, he’ll be fine. After all, he’s never caused any excessive havoc with the pack here, never even coming across them until now – he’s learnt his lesson from before.

Even now, he means no trouble, but this wolf is clearly trying to snuff it out. At least while here, he’s safe from it, but the moment he even takes a single step out those water-stained glass doors he’s practically offering an invitation of chase out in the isolated expanse of the forest.

He could wait the wolf out; this diner is open twenty-four hours, seven days a week, and Nico’s committed when his mind is set on something. However he’s starved, and this boost of energy is eventually going to drain from him and leave him a weak, boneless heap.

So that’s why Nico wordlessly chooses to stand and head right out of those water-stained doors. It’s a now or later situation, and Nico would much rather take this wolf on while his strength is still with him, and then hopefully have enough left to go and seek a donor.

The sky outside is dark at this early morning hour, the stars tucked under the clouds and light pollution, the moon a waning crescent. The January air is bitter and biting even for him, frost glazing over car windshields and the eroded parking lot. Nico prefers the winter though, shorter daylight hours and less people roaming about. It makes him seem like he belongs, with his dead cold, pale skin, and icy stares, and it’s easier to cover up the fact that he never sweats even under the most sweltering of heats. 

Distantly, he hears the chime of a bell echo through the parking lot and Nico doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know who it is. Instead he allows himself a deep breath before shifting on his feet, sprinting straight into the fenced off expanse of trees.

Ever since shifting all those many, many years ago, an ever-present pleasure was the heightened sensations of running. While he’s significantly much faster than any mortal, it’s the feeling that accompanies it rather than just getting from A to B more efficiently. It’s the wind whipping his face and his dark hair dancing through the air; it’s the whistling of leaves and branches and the overwhelming sense of absolute freedom.

But right now they aren’t sensations Nico can focus on as he bounds forward, the crunch of frosty leaves on the forest floor so swift that it blurs into one long sound rather than staccato beats. He has to focus, because he can also hear the wolf bolt after him and for what vampires have in speed, they lack in stamina, whereas werewolves are biologically built for endurance.

When he’s sure there’s enough distance between them, he hides himself behind a particularly wide tree, stoic still as he leans his back against it, listening intently for the rapidly approaching footsteps. For the first time in a while, Nico’s glad for his lack of a heartbeat, since if he did have one, he’s certain that it be pounding out his chest and give away his position immediately.

Preparing himself for the fight, he wills his claws to lengthen and his fangs to elongate, running his tongue over the sharp of them.

The heavy footsteps charge closer and closer, Nico shifts into stance and readies himself.

Three.

Two.

One.

 _Attack_.

Nico leaps from behind the trunk and immediately collides with the body mid-stride, tackling him onto the muddy ground with a heavy thud. The ambush had caught the wolf off the guard, but he recovers quickly, snarling as he wrenches away Nico’s grip and throws Nico off his body with a brute like strength. The wolf is on his feet fast, but so is Nico and with the new space created between them, Nico stares him down, anticipating his next move.

It’s only then that he notices the colour of his eyes. While Nico’s are undoubtedly blood red and slit, the wolf’s are not that vivid blue but rather a swirling gold.

Fists clenching, he realises that this is no ordinary werewolf. This is an alpha. The pack leader and the strongest of their species.

Nico’s no longer sure of his chances of coming out of this unscathed, but he’s not going down without a fight. That’s for sure.

“Look,” the wolf starts, the fog posing him as menacing even if his hands are half-raised, a vain attempt to calm Nico down. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Save your breath, mutt.” Nico spits, not falling for it for even a second.

There’s a dangerous flash in his glowing irises at the taunt, Nico catches it and smirks smugly.

Then he charges once more.

Werewolves may he large and strong, but Nico is small and fast, so he manages to swipe his claws into his left shoulder before cleanly dodging the wolf’s answering fist. The scratch effortlessly tore against his shirt, four jagged cuts torn into his skin. It’s not a fatal wound, but it’ll undoubtedly hinder the wolf’s movement before it heals over.

“Listen to me!” the wolf exclaims, though it’s nothing but white noise to Nico’s ears. He stays on the offensive the whole time, while his opponent doesn’t even try to get a hit in but rather moves his block all his blows. It’s _frustrating_ , because this is just some power play to the wolf, a taunt of his leverage and delusional dominance. It just fuels Nico even more.

Nico’s attacks become scrappy with vexation though, and he just about goes to swat at his cheek when a hand clamps as tight as a vice at his wrist, the tips of his claws just about skimming the surface of the wolf’s skin.

Immediately he makes to twist out of the grip in any way he can, but the wolf pushes him so he’s stumbling on his feet, forcing him backwards until Nico’s spine collides hard against the rough bark of a tree and has his wrists pinned above his head unyieldingly.

“Get off me,” Nico grits out, trying to kick at his legs but the wolf remains undeterred, squeezing his wrists tighter in warning.

“Stop resisting,” the wolf bites. “Just _listen_ to me.”

Nico tilts his head up but is then struck by how close his face is. He meets his eyes with a fiery resentment, not letting himself get distracted by the hypnotic molten gold swirling with blue.

Nico bares his fangs and hisses. The werewolf growls in response.

For a few tense seconds, they stare each other down until one relents. Submission isn’t in an alpha’s nature, but Nico is nothing if not stubborn, so he holds the gaze no matter how electrifying. They pant in tandem, their chests rising and falling from exhaustion before it hits Nico like a truck.

That scent. God, that _scent_.

It’s not just the one that’s so distinctively wolf, but something blended in with it. Something sweet and encompassing; something that Nico thinks he would gladly suffocate himself with.

Without any expressed thought, his body relaxes against the hold and his gaze drops, landing on the four gashes prominent against the wolf’s shoulder. Blood seeps from it, staining the shirt around it’s ripped edges an irresistible crimson.

Nico wants nothing more than a mere taste.

His eyesight goes blotchy with the thought of it, too dazed to even consider how _wrong_ it is to crave a werewolf.

Yet that insatiability is all that fills his mind as the world grows dark and his eyes drift shut.

* * *

Nico doesn’t dream.

He barely even sleeps, but he figured it was just another consequence of the bite. Night terrors had always plagued his childhood, falling into phases of sleep paralysis since eleven. Those first few nights after shifting, Nico had half-expected those nightmares to be more vivid and brutal than ever before, but if they’re there, they’ve never bothered him, and Nico never remembers them by morning come.

He used to wake up screaming. Now he wakes his mind blank and head pounding.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he tries to croak but his tongue is too parched, barely managing to open his eyes fully as the artificial light that floods into the room feels as though it’s burning off his retinas.

“Gods, you’re finally awake,” a voice sounds from somewhere, but Nico can barely make anything off it through its haze, as though there’s cotton stuffed in ears.

Before he realises it, there’s a shadow cast over his eyes that he can sense underneath his shut eyelids. Blinking them open, all he sees is a tanned wrist hovering too close and all too temptingly above Nico’s lips. It takes every cell of his being to not just _bite_ , not to give into that screaming impulse, the tantalising scent, or the roar of the blood he can hear so pristinely underneath the skin.

Nico doesn’t know it’s an invitation before he hears that voice again.

“Drink,” he says softly, and Nico is helpless to do otherwise.

Pointed fangs sink into the vein before his mind can even register the action, but the moment the skin breaks and that metallic taste hits his tongue, the effect is instantaneous. He downright moans as he swallows, feeling his strength and coherency return to him with each warm mouthful. There’s no doubt that blood tastes good to a vampire, their cravings only curbed with it, but this is different, Nico thinks. This is not good but _heavenly_ , so pure and gods damn addictive.

Too late does he realise how much he drank, regretfully pulling his teeth away and lapping the wound for its final, precious drops. His thirst is quelled, yes, but he’s not full, and to be honest he hasn’t let himself be full in a very long time. It’s for the better though, since being full means usually means to kill, and Nico doesn’t do that unless situations call for it.

With his senses returned, Nico can make out the rapidly beating pulse underneath the wrist, hears it pound like timpani. A vampire bite brings pleasure, not just for him but for the donor too, but a simple wrist incision is nothing in comparison to one on the neck, leaving his prey all too dazed and pleased.

But it seems to affect this donor the same, nonetheless. “Is that all?” he breathes, and only then does Nico recognise who he’s dealing with here.

Nico sits up abruptly on the unfamiliar coach, situation in a room that is not his. In front of him stands the werewolf, dressed down but still devasting.

The expression on his face is unreadable, since in any other scenario Nico would decipher it as fond and kind, but this is unlike any other scenario he was ever experienced in the entirety of his existence.

Which is probably why he doesn’t attack right away. Nico may be untrusting, withdrawn, and defensive, but this wolf just let him _feed_ from him. That’s a feat within itself, just simply unheard of.

However that doesn’t mean that he is going to be putty in his hands. He musters up half a glare before asking, “What do you want from me?”

“To help you,” the wolf replies swiftly, as though it’s as much of a fact as the grass is green and the sky is blue. “Are you full? You can drink more if you want to.”

Nico doesn’t try to hide it from his face, the way he studies him with narrowed eyes and the thoughtful furrow to his brow. If the wolf makes anything bad of it, then let it be, because it’s something extremely minor compared to the downright unorthodox behaviour he’s displaying.

There’s one thing that he knows for certain: there’s an ulterior motive to this all. There are no plain acts of kindness in this world, not while Nico was still human and most definitely not now. People don’t just help out if they get nothing out of it, even if it’s something as mundane as seeking goodness and useful about oneself, because from Nico’s experience of humanity and mythics, no one is ever truly selfless.

But he thinks that this wolf’s rationale goes beyond a mere Good Samaritan complex. It isn’t just about the inward self-pride that comes from making a positive impact on someone’s life, no it’s something much more than that, he _wants_ something from Nico.

The question is _what?_

“Why do you want to help me?” he asks eventually.

The wolf just sighs. “Look I’ll explain, but right now I just really want to make sure you’re satisfied, so please just…. Are you _full_?”

“I’ve already drank too much from you,” Nico says steadily. “Anymore could kill you.”

“It wouldn’t, our blood regenerates quickly, for things like accelerated healing.” With that, he thrusts out his arm once more and Nico’s eyes instantly go heavy lidded at the scent. “Please, take as much as you want. I’ll be fine.”

He thinks about denying the offer for a split second, but then he comes up with no reason as of why. Sure, maybe there’s pride, however Nico has thrown it to the wind more than once for his own asset.

So he pierces the vein once more, still the taste is overwhelming, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes his throat.

Nico could drink forever from this single source – would live a more than happy eternity if he could – however he still needs answers, so he pulls away and is sure to lick every drop from his lips. He smirks helplessly, when was the last time he fed until he was actually _satisfied_?

When he glimpses back to the wolf, a few gears shift in his mind for the blond’s mouth is slightly agape and his gaze unfocused.

Did he land himself a junkie? It’s not entirely uncommon, but for a _werewolf_ however….

Under the weight of Nico’s scrutiny, the wolf comes back to himself, shaking his head in a grasp of focus.

“Sorry,” he says to Nico’s evident impatience. “It’s just you… I didn’t know I’d ever find you…”

“What do you _mean_?” Nico urges frustratedly. “You found me; you could’ve killed me, but you didn’t. Why did you bring me here? What _use_ am I to you?”

“You don’t feel it?” he says, as if ‘ _it’_ could be explained with the wild, nonsensical hand gestures he makes. Upon catching the vacant expression on Nico’s face, he growls in vexation. “This _thing_ , this connection? Something drawing you in?”

Nico leans forward subconsciously. Even if curiosity killed the cat, he can’t help but be intrigued. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“My name is Will Solace,” Will Solace says, peering at him expectantly.

“Nico,” he replies. “Nico di Angelo.”

“Nico,” the wolf begins, looking him dead in the eyes. “You are my mate.”

Whatever crackling tension had been in the air dissipates in less than a second as Nico immediately recoils back against the coach and pushes Will away on instinct.

_Whatthefuck_

“Ni—".

“Are you out of your mind?!” Nico exclaims, suddenly on his feet with _something_ a lot like fury singing in his blood. “You wolves never fail to— fucking _Christ_ —”

He isn’t conscious of the fact that he’s stood on the ledge of the only window in sight until a firm hand grasps his forearm. It’s not a far fall at all – only seven storeys high – and all he has to do is leap, fully recharged with enough energy to sprint to his den, grab his most precious belongings and flee this gods forsaken town. The alpha may be merciful now, but even Nico’s not daring enough to cross the same pack twice.

“Just hear me out!” Will yells, yanking his arm so he stumbles back into the apartment and falls against his chest. From this close, he can make out the omnipresent specks of gold in his eyes threatening to seep into the deep blue, could count each individual, fair-coloured eyelash and the splash of freckles dusted across his cheeks.

Nico bares his fangs in warning, seizing his grip off him and the wolf lets him go easily. “It’s out of the question,” he hisses because it so very _is_. Mates are solely a wolf thing, some sort of bullshit partnership just to support their unjust bullshit social hierarchy. Nico’s read about them before, how there’s meant to be some sort unmistakeable, magnetic pull that brings a pair together, mated for life just because it’s written in fate.

He has half the mind to assume that this particularly undaunted werewolf has no idea how this supernatural world of theirs works… but this is an _alpha_ , Nico reminds himself, the most experienced of the lot.

“I _know_ it’s you,” Will insists. “Your scent, _gods…_ I’ve been tracking it for months now, and it’s you.”

“I’m not like you, _wolf_ ,” Nico sneers.

“No, you’re not,” his voice significantly softer now, soaked with conviction. “No, no, you’re not like me but—”

“I’m a _vampire_.”

“I know, okay, I fucking _know_ —” then the wolf roughly rolls the tension out of his shoulders. “You can’t recognise scents as distinctly as I can, but you’re telling me that you don’t feel _anything_?”

Oh, Nico feels. Nico, who’s burdening emotions are forced behind a scrappy trapdoor, _feels_ alright. Since that trapdoor bursts open and everything comes roaring out like a broken dam. He feels enraged, how it sets him alight. He feels bewilderment, hidden in the crevices of his being. Oh, he feels lust, shoved away in the darkest corner of his mind but still so distinctly there. He feels dubiety and delirium and exhilaration and incredulity and longing and _everything_.

But around Will Solace, this _werewolf_ , he feels home.

And he _resents_ it.

“Nico—?” the wolf starts but Nico doesn’t hear it, not above his rushing blood and pounding heart and his own mind screaming _yes_.

And none of that chaos tunes out when he roughly shoves the wolf up against the wall and collides their lips together with a fire.

It’s not at all what a first kiss should be like, what’s supposed to be a sweet and tentative union instead forgotten in favour of hard and unrelenting. It’s barely even pleasant, but then there are lips that move against his just as enthusiastically and fingers curling around his waist possessively and pulling him close, and clos _er_ but not close _enough_.

Nico’s hands entwine desperately with the collar of a purposeless shirt, but he still uses it as leverage to press into the kiss more forcefully. The way one of his fangs catch on his lips is an accident, but honestly the taste of that sweet blood on his tongue is invigorating. Distantly, he hears a low, guttural sound in what could only be satisfaction, and he has no clue who it came from – nor does he care.

 _Oil on water_ , the only rational part of Nico’s conscience reminds him, _werewolves and vampires don’t mix_.

Nor does he care about that, either.

Not when the air is hot and sweltering and their kisses messy and addictive. Not even when their lips break apart and Will begins to trail nips and bites across the line of his jaw to the hollow of his throat.

Long fingers weave into golden hair, tugging encouragingly… but he frowns when the wolf pauses in his antics.

Nico doesn’t want to stop. Stopping would mean getting his rationality back. Stopping would mean it’s time to think things through but Nico doesn’t _want_ to think. At least not right now.

He breaths, “Why did you sto— _oh_.”

He can’t help the gasp, not when Will noses at his at his Adam’s apple and inhales deeply at the crook of his neck.

 _He’s scenting me_ , Nico’s last firing braincell tells him, and he almost wants to remind Will that he’s a vampire and he doesn’t even _have_ scent glands.

However it doesn’t seem to matter for when the blond pulls away and meets Nico’s gaze once more with breathy pants on his lips, his pupils are dark and blown as he leans in close.

“You’re _mine_ ,” the werewolf breathes against his ear.

“Yours,” Nico replies, even if it just is for one night.

Though he knows he’s lying to himself, because if he were being completely honest, he’d be able to admit that he’s never felt more complete with the wolf by his side.

 _So more than just a night_ , he supposes, but right now, he doesn’t need to think about that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I’ve decided to turn this story into a multi-chaptered fanfic. Not one that’s too long, but right now I’ve planned out an additional 3 chapters to this :)

Last night had been mayhem.

That’s the thought that Nico wakes to, prompted by the soreness at the base of his spine and the steady heartbeat under his ear, his head cradled upon a bare chest rising and falling with calm, even breaths.

The morning sun is thankfully shielded by drawn curtains, though they do nothing to quiet the chirping birds beyond the window. But it’s peaceful, Nico thinks, and he allows himself a few moments just to relish in this glow.

Shifting carefully, leaning his weight on a partially numb arm, Nico looks down upon the sleeping werewolf besides him.

His mind is still sleep-fuzzed, but he still knows that had this been any other day: this wolf would’ve been long dead under his clutches. Nico would’ve sunk in his claws and shredded his skin like a flimsy piece of paper – although perhaps not while he slumbers, because that’s a coward’s way to kill and Nico likes to flaunt a little valour.

However instead of brutal gashes and fatal wounds, the wolf’s body is rather a pretty mosaic of maroon-bordering-purple blemishes and bite marks. At the very least, there are scratches, though they are shallow and not put there with an intent to harm, but rather a grip on reality.

Memories don’t come crashing down on him like a tsunami – as if this were some drunken one-night stand. They come back in softly swelling waves, although the images they hold are nothing of the sort.

Not the feeble way oceans gently lap at your feet while stood safely on shore. No, this was more like being swept up helplessly in mighty currents. Drowning in sensation; with little air besides exchanged pants and moans between desperate kisses. Submerged in an encompassing pleasure that doesn’t let you break the surface, only dragging you deeper into darker crevices. Lungs rapidly filling out with an intoxicating scent that leaves little room for oxygen, a scent that still lingers even now.

It’s strange how his life can flip in a single night, this being the third time it’s happened to him now and he’s still not used to it. The first time had been tragic, his family stolen from him in a single swipe that left him a lonely thirteen-year-old boy. The second, obviously, was when he got the bite from the asshole sire that not only ruined his life but his entire eternity. Just when things were starting to get stable, he discovers he has a werewolf for a mate and the world has tilted on a whole new axis, landing him on his ass once again.

Nico absentmindedly brushes his fingers through that golden hair, remembering the way he had pulled and twisted at those locks only a couple hours ago. Still, it’s as soft as ever underneath his fingertips and Nico allows himself this much because he can be sweet so long as no one is around to witness it – he has a reputation to keep up, after all.

Though, with a deep rooted regret he refuses to read into, he pulls away. Careful when he slips out from under the covers so he doesn’t risk waking Will.

It’s undeniable that last night had been an absolute dream, even with his now stiff limbs and scratchy throat, but Nico plucks up his clothes from the floor regardless, systematically slipping them on and making a pointed effort to not look at the sleeping blond’s way.

Now with that lust-fuelled haze has mostly faded, he’s able to think clearly. Clear enough to come to his senses and realise that this would never work. It may be written in the stars, but the stars are nothing more than clouds of burning gas millions of lightyears away. Nico’s never been all that keen on fate, and he’s not at all willing to jump blindly into this havoc just trusting it’d be there to catch him – but that’s exactly what this whole ordeal is asking of him. Mates are fated, and he’s just what? Meant to put his faith in the universe because that’s what it foresees for him? The universe has always had it out for him, anyways.

Besides, it had predicted _wrong_. Vampires and werewolves aren’t meant to be, and never will. Sure, Nico can admit that even after only a night he has developed quite a soft spot for Will, and that Will perhaps more than returns it. But what about everyone else? Nico’s alone, he hasn’t got much to worry about from his part, but Will is an alpha, he has an entire _pack_.

People don’t like him when they’re not even aware of his true form, so he doubts he’s going to be able to make nice with a bunch of wolves that already think of his kind as demons incarnate.

With a resigned sigh, he manages to tug on his jeans and faces the full-length mirror to see just how dishevelled he looks. Like Will, he’s also got hickeys all over his torso, though he doesn’t wear them as prettily as the blond. However he likes the look of the finger shaped bruises curling around his waist. He inwardly hopes that it’ll be a while before they fade.

And that’s when he sees it, as he traces his gaze up his reflection and locking onto something prominent and eye-catching on his neck. Something that Nico knows won’t fade with time; won’t fade _ever_. Something permanently etched into his skin just when he thought that he could eventually forget…

_The kiss is less like a kiss and more like simply breathing in each other’s air, and with the litany of sounds that involuntarily tumble out of Nico’s mouth, he doubts that he could make it a proper one if he tried._

_Ankles hook behind a bare back that press urgently, forcing him closer and deeper. He tosses his head back against the pillow at the new angle, breaking that searing eye contact and absentmindedly babbling praises._

_Will’s teeth skim the bare column of his throat, exposed as though it’s an offering. Maybe it is. Because Nico’s nails claw at his back encouragingly._

_“So good…” Will soothes, planting sweet kisses against his neck before picking a particularly sensitive spot and bites down, worrying it between his teeth and sucking bruises. “So good for me, baby.”_

_“Yes,” Nico hisses because his mind is unable to provide him with any words beyond that. Appreciatively, he rolls his hips and meets each powerful thrust. Will’s fingers press harder around his waist._

_When those lips still lovingly graze against his skin, feeling the pointed edge of a now elongated canine, something tugs within him in a place that is indescribable. Maybe it’s his soul, twisting and coiling, demanding nothing more than those teeth._

_“Yes,” Nico breathes, tilting back his head even further. He hurriedly rummages his mind for more coherent words in the midst of absolute pleasure. “Please, do it.”_

_Will pulls away, his eyes so dark, his pupils almost entirely swallowing that hypnotic swirl of blue and gold. His gaze is intense holding his, searching intently for something. “Nico…”_

_“Please,” Nico begs, too consumed in the heat of the moment. “I want it… want_ you _…”_

_Nico’s back arches as those teeth sink into his neck, his lips automatically parting in a silent scream. Ecstasy upon overwhelming ecstasy stacked on top of each other finally comes crashing down in a crescendo. He comes with his fingers pulling taut against soft, golden curls…_

Somewhat detached from the present world, Nico traces over Will’s mating mark with his fingertips. Something stirs within him, maybe he’s being too impulsive. Maybe he shouldn’t—

The sound of rustling sheets snaps him back to reality.

With an inhuman speed, Nico yanks on his shirt and is out of the window in an instant.

And that is how he meets the pack.

~*~

The plan was to sprint straight into the forest and leave this town without a trace.

The plan wasn’t to touchdown on the frosty grass only to be met with five or so werewolves gathered outside the apartment complex at 6am, every single one of them snarling at him.

And if the presence of one wolf made Nico’s blood boil, then a whole pack of them simply sets him alight.

His claws are out before he even prompts it. Though it’s not exactly surprising, their combined scent screams nothing but danger and threat, and Nico is so bombarded by it that it’s a miracle he hasn’t yet struck.

But he needs to play it smart and _not_ let his volatile instincts get the better of him. He doesn’t quite like his chances, five against one isn’t exactly promising.

“What did you do to him?” one of them sneers, already poised in a stance to charge, and Nico can tell she only has a threadbare of control holding her back. Her wild blue eyes narrowed sharply.

The rest of them are in a similar state, and Nico rationalises that they must be really fucking pissed since the full moon isn’t even close yet. But then again, wolves are extremely feral creatures, and, well, if they see a vampire in their territory, they’d undoubtedly go in for the kill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico grits out because he doesn’t.

“Don’t play dumb, _leech_ ,” another barks out, this one a male with pale blond hair and cobalt eyes, similar features to Will but worn much more harshly. Though he probably only thinks as much due to the jagged scar that pulls taut against his jaw. “We can smell him on you.”

 _Oh_ is all he thinks when the predicament finally makes itself clear.

Inconspicuously, Nico’s looks in his peripheral for a possible escape, but his chances are narrow. He’s surrounded by them, and they only edge in closer and closer, attempting to corner Nico as though he’ll get on his knees and beg for their mercy.

He could probably take them, even if he’s still stiff and sore. They’re a pack without an alpha, surely their dynamics must be at least a little disgruntled. Besides, Nico’s got agility, wits, and experience under his belt, so whatever happens, he’s not going down so easy.

“Look,” Nico starts flatly, remaining undeterred as the circle of wolves grows tighter and tighter. Though his fists still coil. “I didn’t kill him.”

He should’ve, but the fact remains: he didn’t.

“Then, where is he?” one demands.

Nico tongues at the sharp of a fang. “Up in there,” he says, nodding to the building behind him. “Go see for yourself.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe you, are we?” the scarred one snarls, and Nico manages to shift into a defensive stance right before the wolf charges at him. Still, the impact knocks the air out of his lungs, and he’s only just recovered as he swiftly ducks one of his clawed punches.

“Octavian, wait!” a voice exclaims but Nico’s too preoccupied to pay it any mind. He sidesteps the wolf but he whirls around with a quickness that Nico had underestimated, and when Nico catches sight of that untamed expression on his face, with sharp teeth and silvery eyes, he barely dodges the ferocious bite of a powerful jaw aimed right at his throat – with all the strength to rip his flesh apart.

Has it ever been that close before?

Nico’s usually more aware, but he’s thrown off by the near miss, so he doesn’t sense the wolf suddenly appearing behind him, seizing his arms tight behind his back in an almost bone crushing hold.

Nico struggles, kicking his legs at the wolf’s shins but his efforts are futile. In the end, in terms of strength, werewolf’s will always have the upper hand. No matter alpha, beta, or omega.

The scarred wolf’s – _Octavian’s_ – claws come lethally close to his jugular. Nico fights against the reflexive gulp.

One slip, and Nico will be bleeding out in agony for days upon end, fading in and out of existence until he can seek out a healer.

“Wait,” the wolf behind him says, this one a male with windswept brown hair that Nico catches sight of in his peripheral. “You can’t, not yet. If Will’s still alive, he’s the only one that can find him.”

“So what?” Octavian sneers, his eyes swirling with malevolence. “We’re just supposed to trust it? Don’t deny it, you can all smell it, he’s probably already—”

But then his gaze snags on the corner of Nico’s mouth, and Nico watches him intently as he smirks, though it’s twisted with malice.

His hand comes up and harshly thumbs at the spot he’s staring at, and Nico just about catches the smear of scarlet on his skin before he puts it on display to the rest of the pack.

“You see?! And you all want to keep him alive?” he yells outs, and Nico is sure he isn’t imagining their rumbling growls.

Octavian’s calloused fingers roughly grab at his jaw. Nico bares his fangs at him, refusing to back down from his gaze.

“You killed him,” he spits. “You killed the alpha you fucking filthy bloodsucking leech.”

This time when his claws trail the delicate skin on his neck, no one stops him.

“You killed the alpha, and I’m about to kill you… you know what that makes me?”

So it’s more than just the fierce protectiveness of a pack leader. No, it’s about power too. He’s _greedy_.

Sharpened claws digs into his skin. It’s shallow and deliberate, but it breaks his skin and blood is drawn. White hot pain erupts from the wound when he twists his claws torturously slow.

He doesn’t usually resort to this, but he begins to summon up his thrall. The situation is dire enough. He just has to wait for the right moment…

Octavian’s lips curl smugly. “It makes _me_ the al—”

“Stop.”

And that… that’s not Nico’s thrall talking.

In well-hidden awe, he watches as Octavian freezes, his complacent expression wiped off clean at the sound of that new yet devastatingly familiar voice.

“Get off him,” Will orders, tone low and deadly. “ _Now_.”

It’s an instantaneous reaction, those claws burrowed in his neck retract immediately. The vice like wrench on his arms slackens and releases him.

He can feel the cool blood dribble ever so slightly down the column of his throat, but it’s something that he pays no heed to. Instead all too fascinated by the way all the wolves have their heads bowed in submission.

All wolves, besides the alpha, of course.

Who’s lips are set in a flat, straight line and eyes are golden yet steely.

Distantly, Nico sees his opportunity to run. Something keeps him rooted to the very spot, though.

There’s no sound besides the cool, winter morning wind and Will Solace’s steadily approaching footsteps.

When those fingers cup his jaw, tilting his chin up gently that forces him to meet that searing gaze, it’s everything Octavian’s grasp was not. They brush against his cheekbone reverently, stroking softness over his Adam’s apple as those fingertips wipe away at the venomous blood pooled at his collarbones so lightly that Nico could almost mistake them as the hands of a healer.

This time, Nico does gulp.

There’s a small, concerned furrow between his golden brows.

“Are you okay?” Will asks him, with a tenderness that Nico had not at all expected.

And then he remembers: _mates_. Werewolves often get like this. Worried, careful, protective…

“I’m fine,” Nico replies just as quietly, a plan already forming in his mind. If Nico wants to make it out of here alive, he has to be logical about this. His safety is only assured with the alpha on his side, so, for now, the alpha’s little mate he shall be.

“What’s going on, Will?” one of the wolves ask, the one with those bluebell eyes, contrasting with the dyed green tips of her fiery ginger hair. “Who is he?”

However Will pays her no mind, eyes transfixed upon the spot those claws had pierced his skin.

“Will,” and this time it’s Octavian that speaks up, an obviously evident effort made to keep his voice even. He stalks up to Will, a hand about to reach out and land on his shoulder. “Will, wh—”

It happens so rapidly, almost too fast for how a werewolf should be able to move. In a blink or you'll miss it span, Octavian’s back slams against the unforgiving ground, and Will’s on top of him with an expression nothing short from murderous. His fingers coiled around his throat.

“Tell me…” Will grits out, his eyes an incandescent storm. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you right now?”

“What…?” Octavian wheezes hollowly, his hands scrabbling at the grip, trying with all his strength to pry the fingers away as he grows paler by the second.

“Will, what are you doing?!” someone exclaims, but the origin of that voice is something so extremely insignificant.

“W-Will…” Octavian chokes. “Please…”

The alpha’s glare is intense and cold. Nico, who’s seen and experienced all the ugly this world has to offer, has never witnessed someone look so brutal. It almost frightening, how even the seemingly purest beings that walk this earth are also capable of being so inhumane.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Because there’s simply nothing humane about werewolves. Or vampires. Or any other mythic with their souls intwined to this curse of a life.

To be completely honest, Nico wouldn’t have minded if that beta had just died then and there. Living over a century and a half doesn’t exactly leave someone merciless and forgiving, and he’s pretty certain that once he had the opportunity to thrall him, he would’ve killed him without a spared thought. It’s the reason for why he just stands there, desensitized as he looks upon the scene while the other wolves charge forward and yank the two apart.

“Are you crazy?!” Octavian splutters as he pushes himself back to his feet, words like gravel as he chokes between violent gulps of air. “What is _wrong_ with you?!”

Although he’s got four pairs of hands holding him back, Will’s thrashing still threatens to break him free.

“This isn’t you,” the brown-haired beta claims. “C’mon Will…”

At that, Will immediately relaxes under their hold, breathing heavily as he comes back to himself.

His eyes squeeze shut, and when they flutter open the vivid blue of those irises return. “Okay…” he says hollowly. “I… yeah, okay. I’m okay, let me go.”

Reluctantly, they obey. Will rolls the tension out of his shoulders, trying to steady himself.

However, his sight then falls on Octavian, still wheezing but otherwise silent.

His glower is lethal. “But don’t you dare ever touch him.”

Nico shifts on his feet and a branch snaps underfoot. It’s as loud as a gunshot piercing through the silence.

All of a sudden, all eyes land on him.

He refuses to shrink under their scrutiny, though. So instead he stands tall – proud – and raises his chin slightly.

Nico almost wants to smirk. Will was the one who said it, none of the wolves would even _dare_ touch him.

“Who is he, Will?” an omega finally asks.

Will’s face is unreadable, but by the time he approaches and stands by Nico, his hand woven with his own, he smiles softly.

“This is Nico di Angelo. He is a vampire,” the alpha announces before looking over his shoulder, giving him a long, definite, overly-fond look. “He is also my mate.”

~*~

No one had believed it until they saw the mark etched into his neck.

It’s as though it’s some sort of spell, the way they all went wide eyed and enchanted by it. Stunned into silence after such a pandemonium. Like some sort of pathetic bite could hold all the meaning of the universe.

Nico hates it.

Because it isn’t any of that. It’s just some scar. And now look where it’s gotten him.

It’s not like he’s welcomed into the pack with open arms, no that would just completely be against the very laws of nature. It’s not as though he’s got their respect either, because in their eyes Nico’s still the scum on the bottom their shoes. Not that he had expected otherwise, of course, but then again, he didn’t exactly expect to meet them under any circumstance in the first place.

As instructed, he stays put in the bathroom. Shirt off and blinds drawn. It’s surprisingly spacious for an apartment, polished grey tiles lining the walls and granite counter tops to match; the walk-in shower admittedly impressive. It’s shame though that the cool floor gets ruined by slow drips of his blood.

He had easily agreed to follow Will back up to his place. Call it counterintuitive, but right now he needs the protection from a pack that stares at him like dead meat – like the beasts they are.

The door swings open and Will Solace enters with a first aid kit in hand, the look on his face unreadable.

“You do realise that I heal on my own, right?” Nico says as Will tears open an antiseptic wipe, silently cleaning away the dried blood from his skin.

He doesn’t even acknowledge the question, a noticeable clench to his jaw as he works. The air heavy and weighing down on their shoulders.

There’s something strangely intimate about this, he thinks. It’s different from sex: this is all the tender sans the pleasure, a genuine care and worry. In all honesty, it’s a little unsettling having someone fret over him in matters that are so minor, as if he’s worth being the target of all that sincerity.

Once done, the plasters he puts upon the already healing wounds are unnecessary. “Will—”

“Don’t,” he cuts him off. “I don’t want to see anyone else’s marks on you.”

“It will fade.”

“But it’s still there.”

Nico huffs frustratedly. “I don’t need your coddling, okay? I know how to look after myself.”

“I want to be able to look out for you,” Will says, brushing his fingers reverently over his mating mark. It’s still sensitive and Nico finds himself repressing a shiver. “I should’ve known.”

“I’m not some omega weakling you have to protect,” Nico says. “It’s not like I need your constant surveillance.”

Will gives him a long, hard look, one that Nico wishes he could actually decipher. “I’ve spent years tracking you down, it would kill me to suddenly see you slip right through my fingers…" he sighs. "I’m sorry but I have to look out, at least for now. Until the rest of them start warming up to you.”

With that the first aid kit snaps shut and Nico bites back the retort hanging on the edge of his lips. He’s never been so much of a listener, but for the sake of the charade he has to tame himself.

A sharp knock rings out against the door, a muffled voice coming from the other side. “We still need to talk about this, Will.”

The alpha’s eyes narrow in irritation. “I thought I told you guys to not follow me up here.”

“Not in that big bad alpha voice of yours, you didn’t.” the voice replies. “…It’s just me.”

With a resigned sigh, Will tosses Nico a fresh shirt he had brought in earlier and goes for the door. Opening it reveals the side profile of the brown-haired beta leaning lazily against the frame, his arms wound across his chest. He actually seems quite surprised.

“Wow,” he says, standing up straight. “I thought that would take a lot more convincing.”

“No, no you’re right,” Will admits tiredly. “I know they’re not happy with me right now, the three of us should at least talk it through.”

The beta raises a quizzical eyebrow. “The _three_ of us…?” he begins before he leans forward and pokes his head through the door, his sight instantly falling upon the elephant in the room. “Oh, I see… he’s here.”

“A pleasure to meet you too,” Nico greeted with a short wave and a shit-eating grin.

“ _Oh_ so you’ve landed a snarky one, Will. Just when it couldn’t get any worse—”

“ _Cecil_.” Will reprimands exasperatedly, but trails out of the bathroom.

Nico easily follows the two wolves into the living room, and quickly he realises that this is where he woke up. Right on that couch. And despite it being pretty comfy, no one makes a move to sit. Instead Nico finds himself a shaded corner to lean against.

“Honestly, there isn’t much to say,” the alpha starts, drawing the curtains shut so the winter morning sun no longer pierces through the frosted glass. “You know I’ve been trying to track the scent for a long time, Cecil. I’ve found it now.”

“Yeah. Congratulations, man.” Cecil deadpans. “Too bad you’ve been misled.”

“Ce—”

The beta cuts him off. “Look man, you _know_ that this is not how it’s supposed to work. I have no idea what the hell it is drawing you to him, but it can’t be scent. Vampires don’t even have scent _glands_ , for god’s sake.”

Nico almost finds himself voicing his agreement.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Will tries to calm himself. “I know, okay? I _realise_ that this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. _Obviously_. I don’t know how to explain it, but do you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell who my own mate is?”

Cecil looks grim. “Depends whether you’re in your right mind or not.”

Nico stiffens against the wall when the pieces start falling together. He abruptly meets Cecil’s gaze, already fixed upon him with a challenge.

Will’s eyes flash gold with warning. “What are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying,” he begins, breaking the eye contact to meet Will head on, intently trying to get a read on his expression. “You’ve been thralled, Will.”

Already one step ahead, Nico’s off the wall and holding the alpha back in a flash, quicker than Will could even get ready to pounce on the beta. It shouldn’t be surprising, the way Will seems to relax under his hold, but he can still easily break free if he wishes to.

“It’s out of the question,” Nico spits.

Cecil ignores him though. “Don’t you see, Will?” he exclaims. “You were never like this before! You were just about to attack me— hell, never mind that, you were actually going to _kill_ Octavian out there!”

Growling, Will throws off Nico’s grip, however he doesn’t step further into the other werewolf’s space. “He was out of line.”

“This!” Cecil cries out, incredulously gesturing between the two of him with a frantic hand. “ _This_ is so very out of line! It’s… it’s unnatural! And I don’t even mean that in some derogatory way, I mean that it’s just simply impossible.”

Despite the truth of his argument, Nico retaliates with venom in his tone. “You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t understand, _beta_.”

Admittedly, Nico admires the balls on this guy, since instead of backing down he meets him with a silvery, daggered glare and a curled lip. But then again, these packs are so furiously loyal to the point that it’s a flaw, and would inevitably lead to their own demises by charging headfirst into situations out of their hands in the name of allegiance.

“I’ll show you exactly what I do and don’t understand,” he threatens, trying to size him up and Nico just about catches himself before grinning at the wolf’s gall.

Flashing his claws, he allows himself a knife-like smirk. “Bring it on, puppy.”

“ _Enough_. Both of you.”

It’s with no expressed thought that Nico finds himself backing down, retracting the fangs that he didn’t even realise had elongated in the first place. Before him, Cecil visibly backs off too, his initially hunched, hostile posture straightening out in obedience.

“I think you should leave,” Will continues, facing the beta with a look of repentance. “Don’t make me force you.”

Cecil purses his lips. “I’m telling you, Will. He’s using you,” he says flatly, but then makes his leave without further hassle.

~*~

The rest of that day remains uneventful, to the point that it could almost be considered boring.

Nico’s spent a good majority of his life alone, so he’s used to having only himself to keep him company. It’s by choice though, as there’s an undoubtable freedom that accompanies it. He could do what he wills whenever he pleases without having to worry too much about the consequences – as was often the case when it came to near immortal, partly demonic, nocturnal creatures that are only said to exist in horror stories and myths.

However now he feels like a dog on a leash, cooped up in a den because he absolutely knows that Will would not let him out of his sight, and he really doesn’t understand why. Perhaps it’s just instincts, but certainly the more rational side of the wolf’s brain should have him know that Nico most certainly knows how to look after himself.

He’s well aware that he can always just make a run for it, but now with his pack more enraged by his presence than ever, he thinks he should be a little more cautious. Play his cards right.

That’s why, once Nico’s familiarised himself with the various books upon the shelf and casually snooped through his bedroom drawers, he finds himself pausing in his antics; taking a moment to just step back and _think_ once he catches sight of a photograph upon the bedside of someone that Nico assumes to be Will’s mom.

Only then, is he reminded of his own family. Of a grief-stricken mother and an all too caring sister. Both untimely deceased. Possessions and photos of ever busy Venice streets and a seemingly golden family.

Despite his boiling urge to just flee from everything, he knows he can’t leave without those items. They’re the only grip Nico has to his former life; he _needs_ them for his own sanity.

Nico’s thumbing the scraped wooden edge of the picture frame when he hears the bedroom door creak open, and he promptly sets it back upon the table within the blink of an eye. Luckily, Will doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, instead giving him an all too fond smile.

He makes quite a sight – clad only in grey sweatpants, his blond hair dripping from the shower – so Nico is a little helpless to do otherwise than to slyly quirk his lips right back at him.

“I was thinking,” Will begins as he reaches into one of his drawers and pulls out a shirt to tug over his head – something that Nico can’t help but be a little disappointed at. “It’s been a long day; we should go get drinks.”

“Getting drunk to run away from your problems?” Nico teases. “I expected better of you.”

The blond narrows those vividly blue eyes at him as he roughly towel dries his hair. “Seems more like I’ve just asked my one problem to come and get drunk with me, actually.”

Huffing out a laugh, Nico pushes himself off the bed. “So I’m the problem, huh?” he drawls, drawing himself close to the alpha and looking up at him through dark eyelashes – in a way that he knows makes him look good, _desirable_ – admiring the splash of freckles over the wolf’s cheeks.

“You’re a menace,” Will agrees easily before swiftly leaning down and capturing Nico’s lips in a kiss. Humming his approval, Nico tilts his head slightly in an attempt to deepen it; trying to pry past those sealed lips for a taste, but Will pulls away just as quickly as he swooped in, wearing an infuriatingly cheeky grin.

“I wasn’t done yet,” Nico finds himself mumbling, twisting his fingers into the cotton of his extremely inconvenient shirt in a bid to drag him back in.

So what if he’s planning to run away? He likes to have his fun while he can.

Will’s slight chuckle is breathy against his lips. “Do you want to go out or not?”

Resigned, Nico grabs for his jacket that he had tossed sloppily upon the chair, refusing to go anywhere without his leather. “Lead the way.”

Side by side, they stroll through the near empty streets of their town: a small expanse surrounded by towering woods and a river, nothing quite eye catching to it in comparison to big cities and their buzzing metropolises. By no means does that mean that the town in underpopulated, since a few decades living here Nico’s always managed to find a new donor whenever he’s hungry and hardly ever runs into the same faces confronting him on why he never called back. However by nightfall there are not all that many mortals roaming the roads in fear of something they don’t even know themselves, every now and then a missing person’s flyer stuck onto lampposts and a few bodies found in a landfill. Though a considerable many are, not all the citizens are deterred. They just rather roam in groups or opt for cars and cabs instead of lonely walks.

That’s because nightcrawlers tend to hunt at night, mythics like Nico and many others besides vampires. And, well, say if one stumbled across an unimpressed siren or a wolf under the glare of the full moon, one’s chances of survival aren’t all that promising…

Unironically – when Nico looks over at his supposed mate during this frosty, midnight hour – Will looks aglow under the shine of moonlight, catching in his hair and casting pretty shadows across his face. His eyes, though tame and blue, gleam a little more golden than usual.

The bar they find themselves is nothing special, but by far the least seedy of the very few within the area. Nico often comes here when trying to pick up a clueless stranger to feed from but other than knowing that it happens to be a great place to land a guy desperate to get laid, he really doesn’t know much beyond that. Despite his frequent visits, he’s never actually bought a single drink – and it makes sense, since vampires don’t even get drunk anyway.

Being a mythic certainly does impact one’s life in all sorts of devastating ways, but close to the very top of his forever growing list of problems is the numbed effects of alcohol. It may no longer poison his liver (not that any of his organs are functional in the first place) but that also means that he can’t get absolutely smashed when he seeks it. Sometimes, all he wants is to forget; just to escape – even if only for a little while – this misery of a life he’s being forced to endure. However whatever sadistic Gods that are peering down upon his puny self clearly enjoy winding him up like some plaything, so even _that_ would be a too merciful thing to gift.

Distantly, he wonders if he should remind Will of this fact.

However as Will starts a tab and orders a couple shots of something Nico is too unbothered to care the name for, he promptly decides against it.

He would have to be a fool to dismiss such a blatant opportunity, one that he hadn’t even planned yet handed to him on a silver platter. Each drink they’ll toss back will become hazier and hazier, but only Nico will be faking his inebriety. All he has to do is wait for that tell-tale, glazed look in Will’s eyes, until his words slur and all his inhibitions faded before Nico can vanish without raising immediate alarm.

So it’s with a solemn ‘cheers’ and a happy clink of their glasses that they simultaneously drain their first shot. The trail of fire it sends down his throat is a surprise – because _of course_ the pain will still be there – and from not having done this in a while, he can’t help but splutter a little.

“What the fuck was that?” Nico wheezes as he coughs into his fist. He’d be a little embarrassed if he hadn’t stopped caring about what other people think of him decades ago.

“It’s pretty strong, huh?” Will chuckles, seemingly unaffected in a way that infuriates him. “So you still feel stuff like that? Taste? From food and drinks in general? Do you even _need_ to eat?”

Once the burn in his throat has settled down, he shrugs. “I can still taste things, actually I can taste _more_. All your senses get enhanced when you shift.” Nico explains, and Will nods as if he understands. “I don’t need to eat, though. Or drink. I mean, it’s nice to sometimes, but it’s easy to forget about it. I won’t get hungry or starve to death without it, and eating isn’t filling either. It just has no effect.”

“I see,” the wolf says. “And you don’t ever get cravings?”

Nico shakes his head. “Not for food, no.”

“Only for blood then?”

He furrows his eyebrows; he didn’t expect Will to be so blunt about it. “Only for blood,” he affirms, but then Nico can’t help but eye him studiously. It’s strange, because he’s not too sure what prompts the question, and it’s not as though he particularly cares for the answer either. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Will answers, his gaze unwavering and earnest.

And Nico can’t bare the weight of that for some reason, so he reaches for another one of the shots and downs it without a thought. Will swiftly follows suit.

“So,” the blond starts conversationally. “What does it taste like, then? Blood?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

Despite his irritable attitude, the wolf shrugs; leaning more comfortably into the bar stool. “Maybe I just want to know more about you,” he says. “Humour me.”

Licking his lips, Nico keeps his reply clipped. “It tastes good.”

Though the answer isn’t nearly as simple. Objectively, it tastes good, but wouldn’t anything if you craved it like a drug?

Already, Nico notices with a start, Will’s face is starting to flush, and Nico can already hear the tantalising roar of it under smooth skin.

The wolf hums. “And does it all taste the same?”

It’s not… right. The conversation sets his nerves on edge. These sort of topics are considered taboo – from whatever mythic etiquette dictates, at least. Not that Nico particularly cares for what’s considered impertinent or not, but he just doesn’t want to discuss it. Nico may be an exception, however he doubts he can say the same about the alpha, so why is it that he’s being so damn persistent?

It’s the laid-back attitude; the easy-going smile and the genuine candour that Nico just can’t get a read on. He hates not knowing where his intentions are at. It’s unsettling.

Another shot goes down the hatch, and Nico ignores the concerned side eye the bartender throws him after practically inhaling the drinks. “No, some donors taste better than others. You just have to be good at picking them out, it’s easier to tell by scent.”

“Huh.” Is all Will says, seemingly satisfied with the answer as he tosses his head back with another shot. Nico can’t help but admire his side profile, the sharp cut of his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His straight nose and long, fair-coloured eyelashes catching the coloured lights.

They lapse into a silence, and Nico feels the weight of it despite the rambunctious hustle-bustle of the bar.

He doesn’t expect the question, doesn’t even decipher the question due to the wolf’s conversational tone when he asks. “So, does mine taste good?”

Abruptly, Nico looks up. His incredulous eyes meeting Will’s encompassing ones. “ _What?_ ”

“My blood.” Will clarifies all too casually. “Does my blood taste good to you, Nico?”

There’s something to his gaze: fierce and knowing and Nico couldn’t tear away from it even if he wanted to. His mouth suddenly turns desert dry.

He can feel Will’s tequila tinged breath delicately fanning his face. When had they gotten so close?

Subconsciously, Nico licks his lips. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathes, as if in a trance, ignoring the blaring alarms in the back of his mind. Urging him to pull away. To _run_.

But why? Why does he need to run? Everything he wants is right here.

 _Gods_ , what is happening to him?

The disorientating barrage of thoughts dissolve into white noise when Will presses his lips against his. The bar; his motives, all forgotten as Nico presses into it instantly, a helpless whimper slipping from his tongue.

Nothing has ever felt more natural than press of the wolf’s soft lips; the warm palm of his hand cupping the back of his neck. The heat of the kiss so much more intoxicating than the taste of alcohol present on both of their tongues.

Hearing the jackhammering of Will’s heartbeat – his pulse point right underneath Nico’s fingertips – he’s hit with an all new wave of desire.

“Will,” he sighs, regretfully pulling away from his warmth and looking up at him from half-lidded eyes. “Will. Private.”

Chuckling breathily, pupils almost completely swallowing those blue-gold irises Nico’s come to love. “You want to go home?”

“I want _you_ ,” Nico demands, his grip tightening upon the wolf’s wrist. “Now.”

Will’s eyes flicker. “Let me just get the tab—”

“ _Will_ ,” Nico begs, and he knows it’s a dirty card but he can’t bring himself to care when the wolf is back on him and kisses him hard and unrelenting, as if helpless to do otherwise.

He barely notices Will reaching into his pocket for some cash that he slams against the counter as Nico parts his lips and welcomes his tongue, definitely too much money for how little they’ve had and too generous of a tip but neither of them voice a concern.

“Let’s go.” Will says, voice low and gravelly and leaving no room for argument. Not that Nico would anyway, if he could even muster the coherency to do so, all too addicted to the sight of swollen lips and the divine scent of blood rushing through his veins.

There’s not an ounce of resistance when the wolf drags him out of the bar with his fingers woven in his own, palm large and warm in contrast to Nico’s icy skin. The sight of their joined hands is one that he’s not accustomed to, so foreign yet intimate. Change is not something Nico usually embraces, but the swooping sensation in his stomach tells him that maybe he can make an exception.

The air is silent and the town is at rest, the stars hardly visible behind looming clouds as the two of them half- stumble down the road in their urgency and Will’s tipsy state.

Nico could run. Take Will with him. Take him by the hand as they sprint together back to his apartment and press him into the mattress.

But even inhuman speed would be too long a wait against his desperation, so instead Nico pulls him around the corner and into a small, secluded alleyway, hidden away from the glaring streetlights.

“Ni—” but Nico doesn’t let him finish, tugging him in by the lapels of his jacket and taking claim of his mouth once more. There’s no stilted shock to it, Will immediately meets him with a matched fierceness. Too much tongue and teeth knocking together, but what’s lacked in finesse is made up in sheer passion and Nico is obsessed with it.

Soon enough, his back hits the brick wall with a painful thud, the rough texture of it no doubt scuffing his leather but he pays no heed to it. All he acknowledges is the hand the curls around his waist – it’s presence heavy and electrifying – while the other arm coming up to rest behind him, cushioning his head from the unforgiving brick that has Nico subtly biting Will’s bottom lip in silent gratitude.

There’s a line of kisses trailing against his jaw as he lets his eyes flutter shut to revel in the sensation.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” Will whispers against the shell of his ear, teeth grazing against his earlobe in a way that has Nico shivering. “How hard it is to control myself around you.”

“Then don’t,” Nico tells him before sliding his fingers into blond hair and dragging him back in.

There’s no more talking after that, no sounds besides the pleased growl that Nico swallows eagerly and the rhythmic dripping of a distant, leaky water pipe.

His mind is vacant, but if he could spare a thought it’d be that he could stay right here for the rest of his days quite happily. Deep in this dark, damp, and dingy alleyway so long as he can forever share these forbidden kisses with this werewolf he ought to be fearing. Not riding waves of euphoria with as his knuckles turn bone white the tighter they wind into soft curls or exhaling shuddering sighs as he rolls his hips against a sturdy thigh wedged between his legs.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, breaking the kiss only to tilt his head back and pant to the night sky above them, his clothed erection strained and painful in his jeans but he still grinds against Will as if his body has a mind of its on. Just desperate for any kind of friction. Any kind of relief.

A soft breath on his neck and the softest drag of teeth against his mark hits him with a wave of déjà vu. He welcomes it – his blood singing as he’s brought back to those memories from only the night before – and moans brokenly at its sensitivity.

He doesn’t know how or when it happens, but his jacket is hanging by his elbows and Will tugs down the collar of his shirt, taking advantage of all the newly exposed skin to leave a long path of marks and kisses across. His bites rough and unrelenting, yet he still takes special care to avoid the not quite healed claw marks his beta had previously left.

Nico’s lost in the heat, in the sparks of arousal flaring up and down his spine and pooling in his gut as his hips grind increasingly insistent to the point he can’t even think. That siren of warning that has lived in his mind for as long as he can remember finally diminished to an almost silent white noise that he barely has the capacity to pay heed to.

However that doesn’t mean that his reflexes all shut down too. For one moment he’s bodily rocking with his mate in a newly found rhythm like the push and pull of crashing tides, and the next Nico runs off complete instinct as he roughly shoves Will off and out of the way, tackling him onto the filthy concrete.

Not even a splint second later, a sharp _crack_ resonates off the alley walls.

Nico frantically looks up to find an arrow, unmistakably crafted with care and it’s silver arrowhead embedded between the shattered bricks. Had they not jumped, it would’ve been lodged between Will’s shoulder blades and make for a gory sight.

“What the fuck was that?” Will exclaims, but Nico pays him no mind as he pushes himself off the ground and thumbs at the delicately designed metal fletching, the engravement upon it only confirming his suspicions.

In his peripheral, he catches a blur of movement but it’s gone just as quick as he caught it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters.

There are not a lot of beings that can shoot with that sort of deadly accuracy, between mythics and mortals alike.

“Nico, are you—?” the wolf begins with a charged urgency, but suddenly cuts himself off as his gaze lands on the very engravement Nico’s glaring at.

Nico’s fangs elongate before he even realises it. His claws out and ready for a fight that’s surely about to come.

Subconsciously, he picks up on Will’s low, threatening growl rumbling in the silent air.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Will grits out.

“It’s them,” Nico confirms, then spits with as much venom as he can muster. “ _Hunters_.”


End file.
